Order and Disorder
by littleme36
Summary: Just how much are the contents of Grimmauld Place worth? Mundungus' pondering on this very question might just drive Mad-Eye Moody a little bit Mad.


This story is written for Isilarma on her birthday - Happy Birthday Zoe! Go read her stuff and give her a birthday review, I promise it will be worth your time, it's brilliant!

Well, it's actually a little after her birthday, but since I don't have a computer at the moment (mine decided to die) this was all written and posted using my ipad and the free wifi from the nearest Starbucks about 15 minutes cycle away!

oOoOoOoOo

Five hundred Galleons.

Forty Galleons.

Maybe three hundred with a bit of polishing.

Oooh, now that had to be worth at least a thou-

"Fletcher!"

Moody's angry voice roared across the table distracting Mundungus from his evaluation of the assets of Grimmauld Place.

"Pay attention! We're sorting out shifts for guarding the you-know-what at the Ministry, so you better listen up or you won't know when you need to be there!"

Mundungus frowned at this and opened his mouth to protest that he didn't want to take any shifts, but a threatening growl from Moody stopped him before he got a word out. Subsiding, he slid down grumpily in his chair and grumbled a bit. He didn't want any responsibilities, least of all important ones which might put him in danger.

He had joined the Order ostensibly because he owed Dumbledore for getting him out of a few sticky situations. However, he knew, and worse, everyone else knew that that wasn't the real reason - even the ever - trusting Dumbledore wouldn't let a character like him into the order based on nothing more than an owed favour or five. No, the real reason Mundungus was in the Order, though no-one would ever hear him admit it, was because deep down he knew it was the right thing, and shady connections aside he was firmly on the side of the light.

But that didn't mean he wanted to be at the forefront risking his life - what self-preserving crook ever would?

Beside him, Sirius leant forward eagerly.

"Look, Dung doesn't want his shifts, what if I used polyjuice and took his shifts for him?"

He looked hopelessly desperate to escape from his expensive prison of a house. Unsurprisingly, it was Snape who leapt to deny him the opportunity.

"Don't be ridiculous Black. If there were to be any sort of problem with taking the potion you would be discovered and packed straight back off to Azkaban or just kissed outright." His lip curled, "not that that would be too great a loss I suppose. Just get it into your thick canine skull that you are not going to be going walkies now or anytime soon."

Sirius stood with a bang, his face red with anger, mouth already open with a furious reply. Several others cried out in protest and Dumbledore bit out a reproachful 'Severus' which the potions professor barely acknowledged.

Moody meanwhile barked at Sirius to 'sit down and shut up,' and Sirius slid back into his seat to join Mundungus in his sulking.

The meeting resumed and the more active members of the Order began to energetically parcel out shift times. Mundungus ignored them, knowing he would be given any important information in writing as Dumbledore always seemed to anticipate his lack of attention. Sirius, too, was ignoring the progress of the meeting as it no longer had anything to do with him, and the two of them soon caught each other's eye.

"So, how much is the room worth so far?" Sirius asked slyly. Of all the Order members it seemed that he, the owner of the house, was the least upset by Mundungus' constant evaluation of the contents of Grimmauld Place.

Mundungus did a quick bit of adding up in his head - if there was one area of education in which he was not a slouch it was maths - you had to be if you didn't want to get cheated in Knockturn Alley.

"'Bout ten thousand, give or take. Mostly in terrible condition though, dunno what that elf of yours has been doing all year!"

"Snogging my mother's possessions mostly, I expect. Alright, how much for... The stuff I'm touching right now?"

Sirius was always impressed and amused by Mundungus' ability to value something just by looking at it - usually highly accurately, as he had discovered to his dismay when had bet Mundungus 15 Galleons he couldn't actually sell a pair or silver candlesticks for the price he had predicted for them. His face when Mundungus had returned to Grimmauld place barely a few hours later without the candlesticks, but with the predicted 145 Galleons in one hand, the other hand stretched out for his winnings had been a picture indeed.

Mundungus glanced around Sirius' person and rapidly added things up.

"Well, including the clothes, maybe somewhere around four hundred."

Sirius grinned.

"Goblets."

"Thirty each."

"Plates."

"Ceramic, so cheap. More if I could identify them as from the 'Noble House of Black.'

Sirius frowned.

"There's a monogram on the bottom."

"Really? Hmm, maybe 5 Galleons each then."

"Cutlery?"

"Constant Vigillance!"

Mundungus, Sirius, and about half the other Order members jumped nearly a foot out of their seats. The rest just rolled their eyes.

"Merlin's saggy arse, Mad Eye, d'you have to bleedin' do that? Almost spilled my drink all over this nice tablecloth here."

"You need to listen Fletcher! When fighting against Voldemort's forces you can't get complacent! You always have to be on the alert, listening to the important information in this meeting. There could be something vital to your survival, for all you know now you could wind up dead next week and never even..."

Mundungus tuned out Moody's rant with a practised effort and remarked in a side to Sirius,

"those tablecloths are worth about 75 Galleons each, by the way - 'cos of the lace, y'see."

Sirius snorted and Mad-Eye's ranting impossibly increased in volume.

"You two good fer nothings don't take this seriously enough, you've seen what it'll be like if Voldemort returns so get off your bloody arses and fight it, Fletcher you will go to the ministry, you will damn well do your duty in this war if I have to drag you around myself. And as for you Black, you should be bloody well glad you're not still in prison. Quit yer damn complaining, you know full well that you getting caught would jeopardise your fellow Order members so sit down, shut up and do as you're told."

This was all shouted at a volume that would have intimidated even the bravest of Hufflepuffs, but Sirius was angry now, and he was a Gryffindor, and Mundungus was a Slytherin who did not back down to something so crude as intimidation. He and Sirius caught each other's eye again, leaned back in their seats and sighed.

"Sorry Sirius," said Mundungus, "reckon Mad-Eyes spittle's taken at least 10 Galleons off the price of that tablecloth."

Sirius' answering laugh was entirely drowned out Moody's incomprehensible roar of frustration which echoed restlessly through the wide expensive halls of Grimmauld Place.


End file.
